


Mistimed and on time

by xanne



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanne/pseuds/xanne
Summary: This is my first Twin Peaks fic, and it was both difficult and enjoyable wrinting it.It's set just after the end of the second season, it contains some spoilers if you haven't seen the tv show.
Relationships: Dale Cooper/Harry Truman
Kudos: 8





	Mistimed and on time

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind that I'm a Spaniard, and I don't use English on daily basis so, it might have some grammar/vocabulary mistakes. Please, let me know if something sounds too odd/strange or out of place. I'm just trying to do my best.  
> Just constructive criticisim is welcome here. Other than that, ENJOY!!!

Cold and discomfort is what I feel at this very moment, even if it sounds ironic. Yes, ironic, because I’m in the middle of a room overlaid by amber solid wooden strips; the floor, the walls as well as the ceiling; with the same material but different kind of wood, are made the furniture, the doors and its frames. “Warm” and “cozy” are terms that could come to mind to anyone who went through the doorstep and they might fall short to be fitting it as the precision it deserves because the little details also take part, taking those terms to the next level: like the tree well-folded towels in the shelf by the main door; the (over the top) use of different kind of lighting such as wall lamps, recessed lights on the ceiling and the lamps on the nightstands, on the desk and on the dresser; the curtains have an unusual hexachromatic pattern of red, maroon, green, indigo, brown and grey besides its trimmings made of squares are forming triangles and its other trimmings made of triangles are forming vertical lines, and the rug with a geometric pattern standing at the end of the bed. Maybe, what breaks a little bit the pleasant atmosphere is the rifle displayed on the wall where the headboard of the bed rests. I may add the terms “clean” and “tidy”, even though the bed is unmade. Two nightstands are located on both sides of the double bed and I couldn’t help it, I used one of them as a seat even if that’s not its primary purpose or why it was designed for. I finished the drink I’ve served to myself for the third time and got up, meanwhile I was watching how the beam of sunlight were slipping through the windows, very characteristic at noon. In front of one of them I placed myself.

The sun was sparking and smashing; no, it didn’t match with my current mood, quite the contrary.  
I wanted its beams burn me off and get rid of me.  
Nothing happens; at best they only irritate my retinas and make difficult my vision.  
And I take a swig.  
And I hate the call I got just an hour ago.  
And I do hate its resulting news.  
And I drink once again to forget it.  
To dismember it, to break it up, to disintegrate it.  
And make disappear all the suffering with it.  
My duty is to tell him although I don’t want to because it’s too hard to bear.  
‘Cause it hurts more the lies than any loss.  
‘Cause it hurts more the hypocrisy than any loss.

I cannot understand what’s going on in this town lately. It used to be a placid and calm place, with mild crime cases, simple loss of domestic animals or insignificant fights in local bars and clubs. Not about brainy puzzles where you have to use a large range of tools and skills, ordinary and extraordinary ones, so you’ll be able to fit all the pieces together perfectly; drawing conclusions and solutions just by intuition, deduction or magic, even! Eluding any logic. That teenager girl turned up murdered, wrapped in plastic, Laura Palmer; Ronette, she’s still alive but with severe psychological damages; later on, it followed a series of homicides such as Renault’s brothers, Blakie, Maddy or Thomas Eckhardt; an homicide attempt against Agent Cooper too; the failed suicide attempt of Nadine; or achieved suicides like Harold Smith’s and Leland Palmer’s cases; minor wounds to Shelly Johnson caused by a murder attempt against her; some unexpected missing people such as Leo Johnson or Windom Earle; and the strangest case about a sudden death, Josie’s death… It seems that the cause of such chaos was made by an entity, they call it BOB. Or the way to put a name to all the atrocities that a human being is capable of doing in order to shutting up the lowest instincts, I’d say.

And I finished my drink.  
And I filled up once again.  
And another casualty has been added up to the homicide cases, inevitably.

A metal and clatter noise was heard behind the bathroom door; one of my best friends and coworker was inside and he was locked the door. With a pretty good kicking I managed to bring the door down, breaking the lock so I could go into. Its slam was so hard that took the door apart from its hinges.

\- How’s Annie?! How’s Annie!? –

And there he was naked from head to toe, apparently he just got out of the shower, he was in front of the mirror with the forehead bloodstained; he wore his regular hairstyle but he used water instead of hair gel, it gave him a more natural and genuine look. He was making a disconcerted gesture to his reflection, to his broken reflection, at the same time his reflection was giving it back at him.

Surprisingly, it didn’t fall any piece on the sink nor the floor, from the broken mirror. It was cracked, that’s for sure, however each and every fragment was kept in place forming a chopped scene, a divided scene.

For a while, I disappeared from there looking for his red robe, I found it in the last drawer of the dresser. When I came back to the bathroom, I covered his back up with it. Later on, I managed to put in his arms through the sleeves, first one of them, then the other one. Down to his waist, on both sides, there was hanging a cord; a cord I decided to tie up with a simple knot so we’d be able to preserve his dignity as well as mine and, at the same time to win back the modesty. When I looked over the bleeding wound of his forehead, I noticed it wasn’t deep, luckily. I cleaned and disinfected it, put a clean little towel on it and made him aware that he had to put pressure on the wound to stop the blood coming out.

\- I lost my balance when I stepped out… - he excused himself.  
\- Cooper, come here and sit down –

It seemed that he already knew the answer to the question he’d asked so vehemently just few minutes ago. Also, it seemed that the unexpected accident that took place in the bathroom was not unexpected at all. Because, if any skill would be part of Agent Cooper’s identity, without a shadow of doubt, it was intuition. Even if he went to the Hell itself and came back, it’d be one of the lasts aspects of his to disappear before he lost his identity entirely.

Once he was sat on the right side of the bed, I was standing still for several minutes until I was able to clear my mind and gather my thoughts; then I knelt in front of him, meeting his glance, of which you couldn’t tell the difference between pupils and iris.

\- Doctor Hayward called an hour ago, from the hospital… And it’s my duty to tell you this – A lump in my throat made my voice rough and dry – She couldn’t make it.  
\- Annie… - he stated softly then avoided eye contact.  
\- I’m sorry to give you such pretty bad news Cooper, I really am.

He was still immersed by a plain and growing apathy, now his face stayed stern and gloomy; his hollower and more lugubrious eyes were sparkling because they were watered, he was crying without tears. The sadness seized his heart and he was about to dive himself into it and never come out. I’ve never seen him like that; however I knew that feeling pretty well because I suffered it myself a few days ago. You start blaming yourself about everything, about all the facts, all the acts, the context, denying the harsh reality; after that you change that feeling into anger, into wrath, into impotence and ultimately you realize it’s sadness the only one that’s making this thundersquall of emotions; later on, it arises the fear of being all alone, of being empty, of being cursed. He lost two persons under the same circumstances; I lost just one. Anyway, now it was my turn to give him comfort. That’s something I’ve never been good at.

And I reached across and stroke him on the knee, it turned out to be uncovered from any clothing; and I caught his attention, and he went back making visual contact with me and, from my position, by instinct, I did shorten our distance, it occurred to me to give him a hug.  
Gesture he corresponded leaving the towel to the side.  
My arms were around him entirely.  
His arms were around me totally.

\- I’m sorry Coop.  
\- I didn’t learn my lesson, I should’ve seen it coming…

I wanted to protect him.  
I wanted to give him shelter.  
I wanted to mend his wounds and make them mine.  
Soothe such horrid and heartbreaking suffering.

I still recall our first encounter, our first greeting, our first handshake; when he came to Twin Peaks with his spotless presence and wearing a black suit and a tie, and his cheerful and optimistic personality which was always dazzling to anyone that he was passing by; he was alternating the seriousness and professionalism with the spontaneity and the passion of a child; he was fascinated by all little discoveries he found hidden in nature; looking up his surroundings with sharp and fresh eyes, not missing any detail at all. I bet that positivity he radiates might be the cause of keeping childish, delicate and rounded his facial features; one could even misinterpret them as somehow naive.

At times, he looked as if he was feminine.  
At times, his voice mesmerized me and disarranged my world.  
At times, his spontaneous behavior shook up any social protocol.

Now he wasn’t himself. They burned out his electric enthusiasm, charred his grandiloquence, each and every one of his virtues; the evisceration was so huge even his body felt much lighter. His soul, his essence and his guts were ripped open, and they were stuffed by an endless and matte emptiness and neatly stitched up. Because, now, he was not being himself; now, there was another person in his place.

And then, something happens.

He was looking for consolation in my arms because in his thoughts there was only torment. So he buried his head in my shoulder, and heaved a heavy sigh, and the shivering was exchanged for soothing soon; and another heavy sigh; and the peace wrapped us up and made that very instant stop.

And his cheek brushes against my ear and the red burst out all over my face.  
And his fresh citric herbal scent is enveloping me and blushes me.  
And then, there’s no turning back.

I move away from him a little, just few inches away. And he gathers momentum and has the nerve once and for all to rush at me.  
Now his lips and mine collide.  
And I don’t step away.  
Nor run away.  
Nor standing unfazed.

Why am I not able to stop him?  
Why aren’t my hands responding to me?  
Why is he kissing me on my mouth?  
Why am I delighting myself?

He made the first move pretty slowly, tasting every bite and taking delight on my mouth a bunch of good endless minutes, as long lasting gift; at the same time, he was holding my curly hair with both hands. I was simply imitating him, like a double facing his reflection in the mirror. I never imagined so much sweetness flowing out his lips, such softness and such a display of affection.

Until, our kiss broke up.  
And we’re still standing face to face, not too far from each other.

\- Forgive me, Harry… that wasn’t an appropriate behavior towards you – murmured, then furrowed his brow and shyly smiled – Well, in fact, I’m surprisingly pleased that…

And I shortened our distance.  
And I wanted to taste his kisses once again, so I acted and I found them truly quivering and fragile. They’re like waves, one against the other on the sea, one superimposing over the other and sharing humidity, that’s how our mouths were acting out.

I didn’t want to hear any of his theories, didn’t want to rationalize that moment, nor wanted to label it under any invented excuse. I just wanted to enjoy it without any goal at all, after all the tragedies that were triggering in the town, I was anxious to build something good among such destruction and chaos; I craved after something good for him, something sublime and I craved it no matter what, at all costs, and I wanted it right now.

Button by button, he unbuttoned my shirt groping his way.  
Button by button, he met my trousers, but the belts were getting on his way.  
From both belts he let me out and my weapon fell down with them.  
Shortly, the shirt landed on the floor.  
The black t-shirt had the same destiny.

When we broke up the kiss in order to take it off, like waves that come and go, we met again gaining strength.

The sun was guarding my back.  
The backlit was in my favor and against him.  
The sun was giving me the different shades of his skin and was making stand a few freckles out.

Helping me with my hands in his jaw, I came away from him; I wanted to observe every one of his facial features. In the middle of his forehead, where he hit himself, there was a little cut but the bleeding stopped. His two precious stars immersed me in an autumnal landscape filled up with bur oaks exploding into sandy greenish tones; they were swinging in the breeze, dancing. His jet black but still wet hair, was making him look even more attractive, a messed up attractive look. His well delineated and thick brows intensified his glance, his thin lips and his pronounced chin made his looks to go beyond sensuality.

Far ahead of my thoughts, there were my hands, and they were occupying their touch all over his neck along his hairless chest. It didn’t take me too long to bring that milky skin he had under the reddish robe to the light, not even the sun dared to tan. His fine anatomy muscling and his barely existent body hair turned him into the most delicate being, almost porcelanic. Later, I undid the knot on his waist and placed myself in front of it, so I was close to fully laying down. I kept looking to him from a low-angle stare, he was half closing his eyes, half opening the mouth and looking forward to my next move.

I had to lift the red clothing on his legs to see the hidden secret; his spear of rosy rounded head was laying lax on one side; he wanted me to look at it so I could get the whole picture because he spread his legs to the limit. The distance got shorter and under my lips the peachy skin of his belly was vibrating and burning; at the same time, his thighs against my palms were shaking. Soon I noticed how he sank his claws into my hair and, on instinct, he was pushing me down.

I did not pay any attention to his indication, to his insistence, and to that sudden and growing desire that he was pooling clearly in his groin. When I placed my lips on his thigh, his skin began to suffer from casual spasms on and on, now the clipped and repressed breathing of his took its part on the matter; I moved along by the inside of his thigh and passed through that pretty jet black forest on his groin, brushing its foliage up and down.

Since she faded away, my passion didn’t come back so strongly for anybody; I knew her own forest but its shadows and where they led me it was a no-return place, a new identity of hers, utterly estrange and unknown for me. I felt degraded, betrayed and insignificant. After I found out her real self it seemed like all the time we spent together was reduced to pure ashes, everything turned into a simple stupid and unreal story.

However, the FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper had a forest without shadows at all, mixed foliage making a bright landscape, no nooks, no secret caves, no hiding places, no torrents, no cliffs; plain and open. It was really nice for going out for a walk, sharing experiences and having a good chat with no rush. There was just one lake in that picture, dry and consumed, waiting to be regenerated over time.

I wanted to bring on a rainstorm in it.  
I wanted a stream of water to fall from the sky into that consumed lake.  
I wanted to bring it back to life, to make it to spill over the water putting it in danger of flooding.

At that very moment I opened my eyes and spotted the scar nearby the pelvis, I framed it with my fingers. I got away a little and the scene froze, she came back to me again, to my mind, to my torment.

\- Josie.

With the thumb I pressed it lengthwise, I was trying to recall the pain she caused him in the past. Present pain from the past. It was pain for him, horror for me. I wanted to travel back in time, to that very past, when she was still alive, when she was still in my arms. I wanted to change her destiny but if I couldn’t, destroy it all.

A sudden kick threw me up against the floor.

_And my surroundings fade away in less than a second.  
By a blinding light the bedroom is gobbled up, mixed with blurred edges and dispersed tones.  
And the same light takes me back to another place, another time, another context.  
An endless place, no horizon, no stimulus. Timeless._

_What time is it?  
What happened?  
Where am I?  
And Cooper…?_

_A quadruped, a mustang with a uniform toasted brown fur appeared in front of me.  
The four paws joined together. The four paws tied up together.  
Laying down on the floor. Standing still.  
Half sleeping. Or daydreaming.  
Half alive. Or nearly dead._

_That strange place is bringing about more doubts than answers.  
It collapses my mind, it confuses me._

_And my surroundings transform and deform.  
And a radiant light makes me close my eyes.  
It makes me end up with that strange vision and its disorder._

Somebody was slapping in my face.  
Over and over again. Being insistent.

\- Wake up Harry! Harry!

To the amber solid wooden strips I came back. To the overlaid wooden room. To the room number 315 of the Great Northern Hotel. To its warm and comfy ambient. To my fellow lawman’s arms, I was losing myself in his affectionate voice while he was cheering me up. He was apologizing in my ear. The itching sensation he felt when I pressed his scar, made him do that kick against me. It wasn’t planned. It was a reflex act. A reflex act I was well aware that it might happen.

\- I deserve it for being so selfish and for thinking that I’m the only one with a tragedy.  
\- You shouldn’t let the effects of such tragedy to take control over yourself, over your actions; I assure you Josie might wish the best for you.

Was that really happening? How could it be? Was he the one giving comfort to the other, which means, to me, when it should’ve been the other way around? The field of the human psychology was too much for me, that’s for sure. Yes, it’s a technical skill you can study and put into practice later on someday but, even if I’d make my biggest effort, I’ll never be good at it, I know my limitations and this is likely to be one of them.

He helped me out leaning forward, getting up. Then, he pulled the sheets and the bedspread aside so I lay down on the bed. The energy seemed to move out from one body to another, from mine to his, when I fell down against the floor. However, my cravings for him didn’t grow smaller quite the contrary, they’re getting magnified, running wild, out of any rational control. The more time was passing, the more I was eager to eat him up, eager to posses him, eager to dominate him… I was starting to feel a huge attraction, an overwhelming attraction.

His two sandy greenish stars were contemplating me; he was still standing on the right side of the bed, wearing the robe undone, even though he was standing against the sunlight, one could even get a glimpse of his trim figure, relaxed and at peace. He knelt, stroked my hair and I took advantage of it by taking his palm and kissing gently the inside of it. And he couldn’t wait any longer and had the nerve to smack me on the lips; it looked like it was decades we hadn’t seen each other. We fully opened our mouths, and closed them, acting like fishes undersea quite a while; having one’s lips into the other’s, trampling down each other’s, overlapping one’s into the other’s; at the same time we’re framing our faces with the hands; he grabbed my neck, I held his nearly dried hair; with no rush at all, his hand began to go down through my body, through my bare chest, through my tummy and stopped on the only piece of clothing I still had on, and rubbed its surface.

At the door, someone knocked three times.

\- Room service.

My fellow lawman’s head turned around to the main door, as he was looking for that new someone to talk to. My exclamation and his surprised reply went together.

\- Room service?  
\- Room service! – After two full seconds I scratched my head – Yeah, I ordered your breakfast, I thought you might be hungry.

I almost forgot that little detail that was why I didn’t mention it to him. Keeping in mind his metabolism and that he spend the whole night inside the Black Lodge, I came to the conclusion he might be starving to death. Of course, I asked for it before knowing the bad news. It might cause a knot in any stomach. It would make sense he hadn’t appetite anymore.

As quicker as I could I made myself decent, I got out of bed looking for my clothing: I put on the black t-shirt and the shirt even if it was unbuttoned. I sneaked a peek at my fellow lawman that was staying put, still knelt and his arms were resting on the bed. It took him few seconds to react, stand up and then cover up his body properly with the reddish robe and tie a pertinent knot. When I was sure that both of us were presentable, I went to the door and opened it.

\- Hello, good morning Sheriff. – said a young lady with a wavy chestnut hair and honey eyes while she was holding a tray on her hands– I brought the breakfast as you requested, at twelve o’clock sharp.

Waiting no response, she came in and placed the tray on the desk, taking off the lid.

\- Thank you very much… - replied Cooper while he was reading the badge that was hanging on her uniform by the left side of her chest - … Monica. It looks absolutely delicious; my congratulations to the chef; of course, to the service as well – he gave her a brief smile that she mimicked in return.  
\- Thank you! I’ll let her know it.

She handed him the bill so he could sign it and she left the room closing the door behind her. Our eyes met once again. He after all, gave me a hint of a smile; it seemed he was hungry anyhow. He leaned in to the tray and started to smell the steaming food. Then he rubbed his hands. The breakfast I ordered was the same he used to have: a cup of black coffee, a freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, two well-done fried eggs, crisp bacon almost cremated and two slices of bread. I included a large slice of cherry pie. I made a nod of invitation for him to eat, he took a seat and he was getting a thrill out of the coffee and its unique bitter scent.

During the next three minutes, he simply sipped his coffee not paying any attention at all to the rest of the three course meal that were there in front of him.

\- It’s a reasonable assumption that you might ate absolutely nothing since last night – stated remarkably certain of himself.  
\- No, I didn’t.  
\- Harry, I’m not hungry whereas you are. This town won’t feel the necessity for a weakened Sheriff at their service, considering his lack of food consumption – he looked at me over the mug without adding anything else.  
\- O.K. then.

As I accepted the most part of his breakfast, he handed me over the chair and, at first I wasn’t very hungry, but I just began eating the main course and my stomach awakened to its lethargic state. It was a bit odd his behavior. Don’t get me wrong; his behavior was as odd as always, that’s for sure, but there was something about him that didn’t match with the whole picture. As I was thinking that, the gesture of his face changed: he looked away as he was about to brooding over the last fatal event, frowned his brow and clenched his jaw after taking the last sip of his coffee. His eyes were watered and barely blinking, his pupils got pretty inky, a cloud of doom were hanging over them.

The worst fate in life is to end up all alone against your wishes. You put a great effort into looking for and finding the right person, giving them the time that they deserve, looking after that intimate relationship that has grown out between you both since you found love. A deep and enduring love. At least, that’s what you thought it was, because one day they’ll hit you on the face with the one piece of news you never want to hear, blowing up everything and rocking the whole world, and why?

To turn it into a living nightmare.   
To end up murdering the relationship.  
I wanted to undo such nasty tragedy.  
I wanted to pluck it all up.  
So I could make him rise from his ashes.  
So I could revitalize him, bring him back to life.  
So I could have him and make him all mine.

\- Hey Coop, this is delicious. And you were right, I was starving to death! – I wanted to break that absorption he was going deep into and falling on, so I offered him a bit of his favorite desert: cherry pie.  
\- Oh, thank you.

As I brought a small portion of pie closer to his mouth, we made eye contact again, then he savored it for a while. He was having another bite and at the same time, I gained half a smile that lightened my heart. His lips turned pearly sheen, because he just passed his tongue through them so he could get any trace of cherry or pie. I stopped him on time, just before he was going to wipe them away; I brushed them with my thumb and later on, exchanged it for my lips. We finished the palate of the sugary dessert both together, putting our lips together, smoothly fusing ourselves between bite and bite, tasting every bitter sugary bite, mixing the slight touch of coffee, the juicy trace of cherry and the faintest whiskey flavored bite.

Today, this is my present.  
And I was part of it and my devotion.  
And I didn’t plan it; I just did let it happen.

After the last bite of the pie we carried on kissing, my hand escaped among his clothing looking for a warm surface, fingering his knee, his thigh and I got up from the chair; with the other hand messed his hair up utterly; he won even more points in charm and beauty; there he was with his hair style now so anarchic, I wasn’t able to see him like that, I wasn’t able to find himself; he was looking so casual, so pretty and informal; his new portrait made him look even younger, he turned into a rather young man just on the threshold of the puberty. My fingertips were focused on his face, on such black, well defined bushy brows, on his jet black hairline, his temples, his ears and earlobes, his jaw and his slightly prominent chin; we still were tangled up in a nonstop series of kisses. He had to put the mug on the table right away so he could grab my cloth and somehow take it off. Clearly, he was at disadvantage.

I didn’t know where we’re going exactly, I was terrified just thinking about it, because everything was new for me in that particular field; I had no experience in sexual relationships such as this, with another man; even though I didn’t consider him in that particular way; the wrapping wasn’t the most important aspect to me, it was his inner self. That was why fear wasn’t acting in my place. The attraction I was feeling for him was much stronger, capable of avoiding any problem we might find in our way. For the first time, I was paying more attention to my instincts than any reasoning and it wasn’t so bad at all. In fact, it was terribly pleasant feeling, to sense such insecurity and mystery.

My shirt was thrown to the rifle wall, after he pulled off.  
My black t-shirt was thrown halfway there, at the foot of the bed.

Before I could even realize, he already pulled down my pants and was fondling my crotch. To my surprise, the dagger under my boxers reacted to such provocation standing up and magnifying all of the sudden.

As good as I could, I slipped off my boots, my socks and my pants; my hand went back to his face and the other one undid the knot of his reddish clothing. At the same time, I was pushing him against the nearest wall, just in the middle of the two windows.

One in front of the other, we were, with no room between us.  
No letting the other go for a second, continuing with the intimate touch of ours lips together.  
Once and once again, we’re sharing humidity.  
Once and once again, sharing warmth.  
Once and many times, enjoying such infinite affection.

We bumped our bodies against each other as if we wanted to build a new one. We embraced ourselves so we’d be able to sense the surface of our bare flesh entirely. We’re sharing and giving out a roasting blast, and a fine sweaty friction. Our heartbeats synchronized considering his chest and mine were together, it was pure magnetism. That silky skin of his made me have a constant physical contact and even though it was squeezed in between us, my dagger was getting sharper, and as stiffened as it was, now was trying to make a hole in my colleague’s hip at any costs. While he was rubbing his spear against my pelvis.

The fire flared up by the pores of our skin, it looked like we were at the Hell itself. It was the very pit of Hell but on earth. It was the Hell itself just right there. At that point, I didn’t care about the future or if I’d ended up going straight to Heaven or to Hell. I was living on inertia, by impulses and instincts; expecting nothing in return; it didn’t matter anymore if that was right or pretty wrong; I didn’t need any ethical nor moral approval; It didn’t matter to me if it was possible or impossible, if it was just a dream or pure reality.

I was hunger for something magnificent and he was giving it to me willingly with no doubts.  
To die for someone in life on your deathbed, could that bring you back to life?  
Maybe it could.

With no rush, I broke our kiss link and his eyes looked at me very startled, they showed me their autumnal landscape in detail filled up with bur oaks. Later on, he cupped my head, started getting focused on the curls of my hair of the back of my neck. Now he was wearing the robe undone, I caught a glimpse of his perfect torso and how his nipples made an appearance shyly on his porcelanic canvas.

Inch by inch, I was running across his neck and nape with the tip of my fingers.  
Purring and asking for affection, he was.  
Exchanging my fingertips for kisses across the field.  
Passing and fingering his chest, abdomen and pelvis.  
Huffing and puffing, he was.  
Twirling and going back to his areolas, to his pointy centers, they arose just by the brief contact.  
Sobbing and patting, he was.  
Touching up and groping my way across his dark forest looking for his spear.  
Breathing in deeply, he was; and holding it like he was about to dive in the open sea.

I reached it, grabbed and handled it for a good long while, its remarkable velvety texture was screaming out for a merciless wearing away time. Three times and three more times were enough to straighten it out. Three and three more unhurried jolty motions were more than enough. Doubled its size, was standing upright with a new majestic robust shape, ready to be thrown to its prey.

But first, I wanted to sharpen it with my teeth.  
But first, I wanted to have it entirely in my mouth.  
So I went on.  
I almost choked on when I placed it inside, while I was getting it into the bottom of my throat several times.  
Such swaying occurred in unison with his suppressed moans.  
Such path was savory, self-hypnotic.  
Such rhythm sped up by the second.  
And the temperature turned up by half a second.

The flames were spreading all over our bodies; it was a mirror of the Hell itself. It was The Hell itself but on earth; The Hell itself on there; The Hell itself between his legs.

I did savor all the length of his burning spear, all its magnitude.  
One time and once again, running through it being all greedy.  
Once and once again, huffing and puffing, he was.  
Once and once again, my humidity were covering his fiery spear and covering all over again.  
And then, his claws sank into my skull.  
And once and once again, his hips were thrusting against me.  
And then, I took captive his glutes with both hands under the reddish clothing.  
And then, he leaned back and hit the wall with his head, his jaw dropped two inches and he was panting even more aggressively.  
And one of his legs enfolded me, took me captive.  
And then, my touch was focused on his roundly and a bit jutting glutes, they were like sinuous dunes.  
And then, I slipped two fingers in between them.  
And then, I wanted to go deeper into his narrowed well.

And I was just introducing the index and the middle finger when a series of long dying yeses came out from the deepest guts of my colleague’s. Fingers I introduced thoroughly into that narrow well then he started to grasp in a sharp manner. And at last, I made him to get rid of the reddish clothing so I could appreciate every bit of his bare skin, every tensed tendon, every angle, every spot, every muscle. All his body was shuddering at that physical check-up, at every new entering, at every new thrusting, at every new deeper exploration. When I finished with my fingers, just after my lips came away from his spear, I got up, took the boxers down a little just enough to pull my rigid dagger out and stick it inside him. I made him scream out half a lament half a tortured cry, then held his right leg up, the one that was enfolding me before.

And then he writhed in pleasure while his vocal cords were tearing my name apart at every jamming, at every jostling; begging for kisses, imploring them, demanding them.  
He reached out his arms to get a hold of my face; with his lips he was hunting for mine’s.  
So we kissed in such muddled way, once and once again.  
Our tongues met, said good bye and met a great bunch of times over and over again.  
And then he put his hands around my waist tightly giving a boost to the thrusting.  
And we were getting beyond rhythm, beyond urgency, beyond fervor.  
And the melody from our sobs was beginning to deaf us both; sounded more like a groan in pain than a groan for excitement, sounded more like a cry in pain than a cry of enjoyment.  
And one of my hands got a hold of his magnificent spear.  
And every time I moved back, rubbed his spear over full of energy.  
And every time I pushed against, applied more pressure to his spear.  
And then, placed both of his hands on my butt, grasping firmer and firmer to it.  
And I was about to reach the climax.  
About to reach the top of the ecstasy.  
And he whispered in my ear that he was at the same point.  
About to explode.  
About to bursting.  
Carried on swaying; harsher every next time, quicker every next time.  
Carried on burning in flames.  
Carried on smacking on the lips and making half noisy howls.  
Carried on giving high-pitched notes, time after time.  
Until I couldn’t hold it back much longer and ended up shooting all my ammo into his well; still standing chained to him, trembling and sinking myself into his whole body.  
Even though I’ve finished, I kept on with him and the grasp.  
Now three fingers were visiting his well.  
And as how he was huffing and puffing, I already knew he was very close to reach the top of the peak.  
And I planted a great bunch of passionate kisses on his neck, at the same time I sunk my fingers right deeper and deeper into his well.  
And it made a shiver run through his skin.  
And I jolted his spear even furrier and narrower.  
And I noticed how his well got tighten, got smaller.  
And now he reached the top, at last.  
And he spattered us both as a result.

And I embraced him in his last breath. He locked to me in an affectionate embrace, resting his lips on my shoulders. We stayed like that quite a while. Until we were able to recover the energy, to slow down the pulse, to put out our fire. Just when we moved away a little, I realized he was crying and smiling at the same time. Did I go way too far? Did I hurt him somehow? Did I upset him? There were so many doubts stuck in my throat that I couldn’t put together properly any of them. So I decided to dry his tears, to kiss his forehead and held him tightly again and he placed his head on my chest quivering, so fragile. He might be wearing in black for mourning his deceased partner all over again, might be mourning her loss. Earlier we were just friends so he might’ve been keeping up appearances, despite that he might’ve been deadly ruined inside. Now, he couldn’t care less to show me his most helpless side.

I allowed him to spew his grief out, to rain in his heart and soul. He needed that moment, he needed to fix every bit of his broken self, needed time to get all the pieces back together and heal every fracture.

In a extremely gentle manner, I headed him for the bed, made him to lie down and I kept company next to him so he could cuddle up in my chest comfortably. He didn’t let me go, not a bit, not for an instant. The storm took its time to calm down but it didn’t bother to me to wait as much as needed. He gave me support when Josie was taken away from me, he was the most helping hand and the best adviser I ever had by far. And now, he needed me more than ever, and so did I, even if I found it difficult to admit it openly.

I fondled his jet black hair, thanks to that I managed to quiet his sobs down.  
I planted another kiss on his forehead and didn’t move away from it.  
His eyelashes were raking dimly my skin.  
I got the impression his eyes were open yet watered.

The storm ceased already after a quite long lapse of time.

\- What was it, Coop? – I was able to put into words at last.  
\- What did just happen was the utmost representation of affection between two human beings – met his two autumnal shiny eyes - and you, my dear Harry, also took part in it.

The curious double meaning of his reply captivated me, because he was very right: affection for her and affection for me. One thing wouldn’t have happened without the other, not a good thing would’ve happened if the tragedy hadn’t started in the first place. We had to pass though that tender brute event of our lives, we were mistimed and on time, at the best and the worst of times; in that pretty and revolting precise place. That murder, that terrible criminal act committed to your nearest and dearest someone, kills a part of yourself too, a part of your identity; or it’s simply the great imprint she left on you. Later, you look around, yet everything’s wrecked you realize what remained among the wreckage; those were the ones who survived, the ones who stay on your side, who stand any emotional, spiritual or terrestrial disaster. That gives you hope again. And the gratitude I was feeling at that very instant I knew he was sensing it because a widely smile played over his face even though was wet. He was feeling the same thing and I couldn’t wait much longer so I kissed him so mildly we barely touch; as if it was my first young love, my first time going to bed with someone, and I was worried about ruining it all by acting in a rush.

Before we could even be aware of it all, we were getting very sleepy. We’ve covered ourselves with the sheet and the bedspread and then he snuggled up on my chest while I was holding him tight. I secretly dreamed to be just like that, catching a whiff of shampoo from his jet black hair; simultaneously my fingertips were brushing up and down his spine.

The sun was going down changing its color into a brighter orange. I never wanted that very moment to end, I wanted to be by his side, up to the last day of my existence.


End file.
